Analise came to as a heavy weight lifted from her chest.

A scream died on her lips as the shadowy figure looming over her turned into a familiar one.

“Pierce!”

“I thought you were dead,” he said, and then she was in his arms, tears she’d fought for so long running freely down her face.

He held on to her as though she was a mirage and he was afraid if he let go she’d disappear.

And then he was leaning back and she knew he was trying to see her through the dim light and she knew it didn’t matter if they were blurs to each other. In the next instant, he’d pulled her back against him and, cupping her face in his hands, kissed her lips.

His face was rough with stubble and cold from the snow and it felt wonderful against her skin. He felt real, and his kiss was the fabric of fantasy. Happiness welled inside her like an untamed artisanal well, tickling her from the inside out with the delirious feeling of safety she’d thought she’d never again experience.

Westin’s Wyoming
Alice Sharpe

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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This book is dedicated to my daughter-in-law,

Becky Braun, with much love.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Alice Sharpe met her husband-to-be on a cold, foggy beach in Northern California. One year later they were married. Their union has survived the rearing of two children, a handful of earthquakes registering over 6.5, numerous cats and a few special dogs, the latest of which is a yellow Lab named Annie Rose. Alice and her husband now live in a small rural town in Oregon, where she devotes the majority of her time to pursuing her second love, writing.

Alice loves to hear from readers. You can write her at P.O. Box 755, Brownsville, OR 97327. SASE for reply is appreciated.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Pierce Westin —When he left the Open Sky Ranch, Pierce was a troublemaker who’d had a falling-out with his father. Fifteen years have gone by and he’s back to mind the homestead for a while and maybe mend more than one kind of fence.

Princess Analise Elsbeth Emille —Raised in the small monarchy of Chatioux, this engaged to be married beauty never questioned her destiny—until now.

General Kaare —The king’s closest advisor and protocol expert, this old soldier is determined to monitor the princess’s behavior and safety whether she likes it or not.

Brad Harley —The princess’s new bodyguard, hired after an attack on the original. Is he part of the solution or part of the problem?

Mr. Vaughn —Traveling with the princess, is he more than the meek little man he seems?

Bierta Gulden —The mousy maid seems content to stay in the princess’s shadow, but that won’t protect her from a killer….

Lucas Garvey —This ranch hand is sworn in to act as a backup bodyguard.

Darrell Cox —Another ranch hand who signs on to help protect Princess Analise—and soon regrets it.

Cody Westin —Pierce’s brother who calls him home to fill in for him. He leaves in such a mysterious hurry that no one on the ranch even knows visitors are expected.

Birch Westin —Pierce and Cody’s father.

Toby (aka Tex) —A little boy who gets a whole lot more Wild West than he ever bargained for.

Jamie Dirk —Two generations of Westin ranchers have depended on Jamie’s knowledge and common sense, but never more than now.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Epilogue

Prologue

February

Cody Westin gripped the receiver in his left hand as he sat down at his desk.

“Tell me exactly where you found her,” he said, pausing to listen as the detective rattled off rapid-fire details.

“Yes, I’ll come,” Cody said at length, his dark gaze moving to the big window that overlooked the uncompromising Wyoming peaks. He glanced at the clock on the wall. “I’ll leave within the hour. I’ll meet you there.” Brow furrowing, he added, “Smyth? Don’t lose her, okay?”

He clicked off the phone and stood for a moment. Then he walked to the sideboard and poured himself a finger of whiskey, tossing it back in one swallow, closing his eyes as the liquor burned its way down his throat.

His brother Adam, who worked the ranch with Cody and their father, was off on a backcountry hike in Hawaii, unreachable by phone. That meant Cody would need to contact his other brother, Pierce. The detective’s call couldn’t have come at a worse time—the ranch was gearing up for calving season, which was coming in a month or so.

“Family comes first,” he muttered. It was an uneasy point in ranching life. The herd came first, too. Made things a juggling act.

Pierce was half owner of a business currently operating overseas. He could take time off for an emergency if he wanted to. That was the rub. Would he want to?

He had to. Someone had to be in charge since their father was laid up. The place couldn’t run itself.

Clicking nails on the hardwood floor and a wet nose thrust against his arm announced Bonnie had come into the office. Cody ran a hand along the pale yellow Lab’s smooth head, then set the empty glass on the sideboard. Back at the desk he didn’t even bother to review his planner—whatever was on the books for the next few days would just have to happen without him. He had to go. This might be his last chance.

He moved aside the painting of the old hunting lodge that hung behind the desk and worked the combination on the safe hidden under it. Reaching inside, his fingers closed on a small box. He stared at it a moment, then slowly tucked it in his jeans pocket as the dog watched him with deep brown eyes, tail gently wagging.

“You can’t go with me, Bonnie,” he murmured. “Not this time.”

He would pack a bag, drive to Woodwind and catch a plane. Somehow, someway, he had to find the right words, say the right thing, end this nightmare.

But first he’d call Pierce home.

Chapter One

Pierce Westin stared down at the cattle gate for a long time. Was his brain frozen, were aching muscles clouding his vision or had someone cut the chain and wrapped it back around the steel railings to make it appear it was still secure?

He swung himself off his horse, waded through the snow that had backed up against the gate and grabbed the metal with gloved hands. The last links on either end dangled loose when shaken. It had been cut, all right.

Well, maybe the winter policy had changed since he’d lived and worked on the ranch. Maybe it was always kept this way now. He’d only been back a few days—how did he know?

Except the cuts looked new. He studied the snow, both on his side of the gate and on the Bureau of Land Management side where the ranch had grazing rights. He couldn’t see any fresh tracks besides his own.

His horse, a tidy pinto named Sam, bumped Pierce’s hat off his head and whinnied softly against his neck, his exhalations forming a cloud of vapor in the cold air. Pierce caught the hat before it hit the ground and pulled it back on. Okay, okay, no time to worry about this now, he had a chopper to meet and Sam was apparently on duty to remind him of it. Back in the saddle, Pierce moved off down the canyon.

He’d been away from the ranch for most of fifteen years, hence the protesting muscles in the saddle. He wouldn’t be here now except for Cody’s call, and for a second he flashed on the situation he’d left behind in Italy. He immediately pushed aside those concerns—no use stewing about something he couldn’t change from thousands of miles away.

An hour later, Pierce reached the airfield in time to witness a huge helicopter descending from the turbulent skies—there was a storm predicted for late the next day. No point in muttering curses at Cody for leaving nothing but cryptic notes about who was arriving on the chopper, but man, it would have been nice to have a name or a reason for the visit. Even a contact number so he could cancel would have been nice.

The blades were still whirling when Pierce pulled his horse to a halt beside Jamie Dirk. Two generations of Westin men had depended on Jamie’s common sense and work ethic to keep the Open Sky running, but the old guy hadn’t changed much in the past fifteen years.

Jamie stood beside his bay mare. Pierce knew the preferred mode of transportation had shifted from horseback to ATVs over the years. He was riding the pinto for old time’s sake. He suspected Jamie was riding the mare because that was what a ranch hand was “supposed” to ride and there was little doubt that a horse was better with a cow than a machine or even a man if it came to that.

Jamie looked up at Pierce from beneath the brim of his disreputable brown hat, shifted the ever-present toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other and grumbled, “’Bout time you showed up.”

“You know anything about the gate over past Saddleback?” Pierce asked as he dismounted. His boots landed on a thin layer of day-old crunchy snow, a far cry from the three-foot drifts he’d steered clear of at higher elevations.

“The one leading to the BLM land? What were you doing all the way out there?”

“Just looking around, getting a feel for things again. It’s been a while, you know.”

“What about the gate?”

“The chain’s cut.”

Jamie’s brow wrinkled. “That’s odd.”

“I thought so, too.” Pierce tried to catch a glimpse of who might be inside the chopper. “I wish I knew who the hell we were standing here to greet.”

“Maybe I should take off and see about that gate.” The old guy was happier in a saddle than on the ground.

“Stick around,” Pierce said, handing Jamie the pinto’s reins. “These people won’t be here long, not when I explain about the storm.”

“Speaking of that storm, I sent a few of the men to the higher pastures to bring the heifers closer to the ranch. Those first-time mothers need help now and again.”

Pierce nodded. He understood Jamie was keeping him in the loop and he appreciated it, but except for that chain being cut, there wasn’t a thing he could tell Jamie that Jamie didn’t already know.

Pierce had taken a dozen steps onto the field when he heard another engine and turned to see the arrival of a ranch vehicle. The young driver looked sullen as though being asked to transport visitors was beneath him.

The sound of the helicopter door opening reclaimed Pierce’s attention and he turned in time to see a man jump out of the chopper. Dressed in black from the sunglasses plastered on an expressionless face to the leather coat strained across burly shoulders, he scanned the field like a vulture, shaved bald head reflecting what little light fought its way through the gloom. Other than the old hangar, which housed the ranch helicopter, and a wind sock whipping around as the weather picked up, there wasn’t a heck of a lot to see.

Which begged the question in Pierce’s head: What was he doing standing out here in the frickin’ cold, waiting for a bad version of Mr. T to give the place a once-over? He took a deep breath of icy air. “Welcome to—”

“Stop right there,” the man growled.

Pierce felt his forehead furrow. “Excuse me?”

“I said stop. Let me see some ID.”

The corners of Pierce’s lips lifted. “You’re kidding, right? You land on private property and then go ordering me around? Who are you?”

At that moment, a child appeared in the open door of the chopper. Hands from inside reached as if to detain him, but the boy slipped away easily, hitting the ground with a thud and taking off at a sprint, his face split with a big old grin.

All things considered, he was an astonishing-looking kid. About eight or so, bright red hair, decked out in a buckskin jacket, cowboy boots, spurs and two tin six-shooters that banged against his skinny legs as he ran. A blue cowboy hat flew out behind him, tethered by a cord around his neck.

The bald man tried a full body block, but the kid was wily and darted away until he all but slammed into Pierce’s legs.

“Whoa, partner,” Pierce said, catching the small shoulders in his hands, ignoring the twinge in his heart. Eight. That’s about how old Patrick would have been.

The child looked up at him with silver dollar eyes. “Are you a real cowboy?” he said.

Behind them, Jamie snickered and Pierce threw him a dirty look. To the boy, he said, “Of course I’m a real cowboy.” He looked the kid over and added, “From the size of those spurs, so are you.”

He glanced up from the child in time to see an older man with deep lines running down pale, gaunt cheeks standing at the chopper door. He wore a fur cap and military-looking wool coat over what appeared to be a uniform and stood like a conquering hero awaiting a ticker-tape parade. Upon making eye contact with Pierce, he nodded curtly, but when he hit the ground, he made his way toward the bald man who was in the process of slipping a very small derringer into his jacket pocket.

Pierce smiled. Not exactly the kind of weapon he would have pegged the big guy to carry. Soon the men were deep in conversation, smoke from the bodyguard’s burning cigarette wreathing their heads.

“I have six-shooters, too,” the boy said, looking up at Pierce.

Was it possible Cody had set him up for some elaborate joke? “What in the daylights is going on?” he grumbled.

“Beats me,” Jamie murmured from behind him.

“Cody didn’t tell you anything about this?”

“Like I keep telling you, he said nothing.”

Movement at the chopper door signaled another newcomer. This was beginning to remind Pierce of a clown car at the circus where characters kept popping out, each more bizarre than the one before.

That comparison flew out the window as a woman wearing a white hooded jacket nipped in at the waist stepped onto the field. As she pushed back the hood, shiny ebony hair cascaded to her shoulders.

The woman paused as if to assess the situation and then immediately began walking toward Pierce and the boy.

At first he was just mesmerized by her long, slender legs and the curves the tight jacket couldn’t conceal. But the closer she got the more his gaze zeroed in on her face. Damn near aqua eyes, the color of an alpine lake and just as clear. Lips full, beautifully curved, painted red. Skin that wasn’t really skin; it couldn’t be. It had to be satin or silk.

There was something about her that seemed familiar. Had he seen her on the cover of a magazine near a supermarket checkout lane? It had been a while since he’d been in a movie theater, but if she was an actress and these people were in the movie business, it might explain things.

“You must be Cody,” she said, extending a cashmere-covered hand. Her accented voice held the tiniest trace of an edge as though she was exerting a lot of effort into sounding casual.

“No,” he said, taking her hand, “my brother was called away. I’m Pierce Westin. And you are—”

“Hold it!” the older man called and immediately strode across the field toward them. The hulk stayed behind. “I thought we agreed you would wait inside the chopper until we establish security. I’m informed this man will not show his ID.”

“Why the hell should I show you my ID?” Pierce said evenly. “Seems to me it ought to be the other way around.”

“You don’t expect trouble here, do you?” the woman asked, glancing left and right, those beautiful eyes suddenly flooded with anxiety. She withdrew her hand from Pierce’s grasp and anchored it in front of her chest with the other.

“After Seattle, I expect trouble everywhere which is why I made sure you have a new bodyguard.” The older man nodded at the bald guy. Then, with thin lips pressed together, he shifted his hooded gaze to Pierce.

Beautiful woman and interesting undercurrents aside, this was all just too bizarre. “Listen, folks,” Pierce said calmly, “this has been…well, interesting, anyway, but there’s a storm approaching. I don’t know what kind of deal you made with Cody, but I don’t have time to—”

“There isn’t a doubt in my mind you’re one of Melissa Browning’s sons,” the woman said. “You look just like her. Same dark hair, same gray eyes.”

“You know my mother?”

“No, not exactly, but I do see you bear a striking resemblance.”

She had dazzled him with her looks, aroused his curiosity with a couple of telltale signs of apprehension, but to hear her accented voice speak his mother’s name—her maiden name at that—just kicked it all into overdrive. “How in the world do you know what my mother looks like?”

“I’ve upset you,” she said softly.

“Nothing about her can upset me,” he said as his gut clenched. Liar…

“I’m so relieved. Actually, I saw a photograph of her taken when she was young.”

He stepped back a few inches. “Who are you? What are you and all these other people doing here?”

She rested her hands on the boy’s shoulders. “This is my cousin, Toby.”

“No, Analise,” the child protested, looking up at her. “You promised you’d call me Tex.”

She smiled down at him. “My mistake, Tex. And this gentleman—” here she nodded at the older man “—is General Kaare. I am Analise Emille.” She frowned, her forehead wrinkling just a little, her luscious lips slightly puckered. “You weren’t expecting us?”

“Not exactly,” he admitted. “See, Cody didn’t say much before he…left.”

The aqua eyes widened. For a second he wondered if she and his brother were fooling around, then he remembered she hadn’t known Pierce wasn’t Cody until he’d announced it. Besides, Cody was still married and he wasn’t the kind of man to get involved with another woman even if he and his wife were estranged.

“Princess Analise,” the general said smoothly. “Let’s at least get you out of the open.”

“Princess?” Pierce said softly as the woman reacted to the general’s warning by flinching.

When she met Pierce’s gaze again, she tried a smile but it looked forced. “You didn’t know that, either, did you?”

Chapter Two

“Princess of what exactly?” For the moment, Pierce let the “out of the open” comment slide.

“Of Chatioux, of course,” the general growled. “Surely you recognize King Thomas’s youngest child, Analise Elsbeth Emille.”

So that explained the accent. He’d heard of Chatioux—it was one of those little countries tucked somewhere in Northern Europe. As he tried to make sense of a genuine princess visiting the Open Sky Ranch, another man and a middle-aged woman stepped out of the helicopter. They both threw curious glances toward the princess but scurried to the waiting truck, hunkered inside their coats as if freezing. The ranch hand opened doors for them and they climbed inside. Meanwhile, the helicopter pilot began emptying the external luggage bins, piling trunks and cases on the field.

Pierce turned around and caught Jamie’s eyes. Jamie shrugged and shook his head. Even the horses looked confused.

“Your brother requested we keep our group small,” the general announced. “The princess and her cousin, one bodyguard, the princess’s attendant, Mr. Vaughn and myself. Six, that is all. We left double that number behind at the hotel in Jackson Hole.”

Pierce ran a gloved hand over his jaw. What the hell was he supposed to do with royalty in March on a cattle ranch? This was insane and he found himself itching to ask his usually predictable brother what in the world he’d been thinking.

Maybe the ranch was losing money and had started taking paying guests… Maybe Adam’s push into organic beef wasn’t panning out the way everyone hoped it would…

Man, if that was true, did his dad know? Impossible to wrap his brain around the old man agreeing to turn the Open Sky into a damn dude ranch.

“Let me explain something,” Pierce began. “If you get caught in the weather system that’s coming, you might end up in Wyoming for days. Considering the fact Cody isn’t here as planned and I wasn’t expecting people of your stature, it would be best to reschedule your visit. I’ll see about a refund—”

“I don’t understand,” the princess said. “Refund of what?”

“If you paid something up front—”

“Paid!” the general barked. “We do not pay!”

Okay, so there was no money involved. That wasn’t it. “Sorry,” Pierce said. “I just assumed—”

“It seems your brother kept his word to say nothing of our identity,” the general added. “That kind of honor is admirable. I should liked to have met him.”

“Exactly,” Pierce said. “And that’s why it would be best all around if you people leave now and reschedule a visit for after Cody gets home. We’ll just get your stuff back in the chopper and—”

“But I want to stay,” the boy cried in panic. He looked longingly toward Jamie who with his bowed legs and ancient chaps did look the part of a real cowboy. “Look how big the brown horse is and it has a white star on its forehead just like the one in my book. Can we have a campfire with real grub?”

“It’s twenty-three degrees out here,” Pierce said.

The princess touched his arm and turned her back to the others. He turned with her. She took a few steps and he followed. “I understand your reservations about hosting us, Mr. Westin, I really do,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper but it sure traveled through his body like a hot tornado. “I can’t explain right now why it’s so important for us to stay for just a day, but will you trust me that it is? Please? And, well, it means so much to my cousin.”

Pierce took a deep breath as he gazed into her eyes. Not a movie star, not a paying guest, just a beautiful princess with a quiver in her voice as if denying her would crush her. He glanced back at the little boy who appeared damn close to crying.

Cripes.

“If it’s money—” she began.

“No, no,” he said. “It’s not money.” It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her what she was afraid of and if that’s why she needed to stay on the ranch but he didn’t. For now it would suffice that it was important to her—hell, be honest, what else did he have to do for the next twenty-four hours that was any more important than giving aid and, dare he hope, comfort to a gorgeous woman? “We have an indoor arena,” he said at last. “I guess we could build a campfire in there.”

“Oh, thank you,” Princess Analise said with an exhaled breath.

“Could we bring a cow inside?” the child asked hopefully. He’d obviously been eavesdropping.

“Why not?” Pierce said, lips twitching.

“Can we also visit the very small house we flew over?”

“The very small house?”

“Over there,” he said, pointing east.

“The ice-fishing shanty,” Jamie volunteered. He’d apparently moved closer when the child had the good sense to compliment Jamie’s favorite mare. “Adam painted it yellow last fall. You folks must have seen that.”

“Adam?”

“My other brother.”

“That’s right, I forgot. There are three of you, right?”

And how did she know that? “Yeah. Three.”

“The fishing shanty did look interesting from the air,” she said, adding, “though it’s very remote. I would love to see what it’s like inside. At home, ours are sometimes quite charming.”

“I doubt this one would qualify as charming,” Pierce said.

“I’ll show it to you, ma’am,” Jamie offered, a slight blush creeping up his wrinkled neck. “And as far as a campfire, we built a big old covered pavilion a couple of years ago for Cody’s wedding. It’s got gas heaters and everything.”

“That sounds perfect,” Princess Analise said.

Seeing the ranch hand had started piling their luggage in the back of the truck, Pierce strode over and hefted a couple of suitcases. The sooner they got going, the sooner he’d find out what was really going on. Being back in Wyoming was not his idea of a great time. Being with a very attractive woman who just happened to be a little scared and a little nervous and needed his shoulder to cry on—well, that was right up his alley.

“I am going to have an adventure!” the boy cried. “You, too, Cousin Analise.”

“The kid is just like you were, Pierce,” Jamie called. “Always ready for action. Hell’s bells, I’d wager you’re still like that.”

Pierce shook his head as he dumped the last of the luggage in the truck. By now the helicopter engines had once again engaged. The general tried herding the princess and the boy to the idling vehicle but they both hung back near Jamie as the chopper rose into the air and the horses danced around a little but not much. They were used to the ranch aircraft.

How had a princess from a small country half a world away become familiar with a photograph of Pierce’s long missing mother? Was it possible Princess Analise knew where Melissa Browning Westin was now? Is that why Cody had agreed to this visit?

If so, why had his older brother left almost on the eve of her arrival and without so much as a word hinting at who was coming and why?

Pierce pushed his hat back on his head. “The truck only seats six, and what with the driver, I guess someone will have to ride back with Jamie or me.” Looking over at the bald man dressed in black, he raised his voice and added, “I guess you’re it, buddy.”

But Toby had already run over to Jamie and put a hand on the mare’s glistening brown neck. “I want to ride this one. Is her name Star? May I, please?”

Jamie chuckled. “I can take the little fella,” he said. “Come on, son, up you go.”

“And I will ride with you,” Princess Analise announced, looking Pierce straight in the eye. He smiled at her. Fine by him but her announcement seemed to have galvanized the bodyguard who approached like a belligerent bull.

The general sputtered. “But, Princess. It is hardly necessary or appropriate for you to ride with this man. Nor is it safe—”

“Nevertheless, I will ride with him,” she said, and there was a change in the timbre of her voice that stopped the bodyguard dead in his tracks and shut down the general.

The corner of Pierce’s upper lip lifted. Nice to see the princess square her shoulders and jut her chin. He climbed back in the saddle and, freeing a stirrup for her use, extended a hand and pulled her up behind him, smiling to himself as her hands landed on his waist.

“You will be cautious,” the general said, gaze darting between Pierce and the princess.

“Sure,” Pierce said.

Before he could turn the horse, the general caught the bridle. “Once we have suitable accommodations, you will explain what precautions you’ve taken to protect the princess.”

There it was—the dead fish in the punch bowl, the issue everyone had been skirting around since they landed. The pushy bodyguard, the flustered general, a princess looking over her shoulder…

“You know, maybe it’s about time someone tells me exactly what she needs protection from,” Pierce said.

The general raised gray eyebrows. “From whoever is intent on killing her, of course.”

Chapter Three

Analise tightened her grip on Pierce as he turned his head slightly and said, “Someone is trying to kill you?”

She cringed at the theatrics of the general’s statement though there was more than a grain of truth behind it. “Yes,” she said.

“No wonder the general looked jumpy when you announced you were leaving him and the bodyguard behind.”

“The general is a very old and trusted friend of my father’s, but I’m a twenty-six-year-old adult and his hovering gets on my nerves.” She instantly regretted speaking out. The general was the general. He was not the reason she was nervous and not the reason she’d insisted on riding with Pierce.

The past week had passed in a blur as she did her best to pretend she wasn’t worried about death threats or arriving at this ranch. Twenty-four hours from now, this would be over. Well, at least part of it would.

She took a few deep breaths of blessedly unrecirculated air and concentrated on the moment. The sway of the horse, the faint smell of the pines. The low growl of the truck rumbling behind them. The solid feel of the man whose back she hugged.

He did resemble the photo she’d seen of his mother, but in a masculine way. At least six feet tall, broad shoulders, gorgeous slate eyes and strong features, a sensuous mouth. Even through the padding of a winter coat, she could tell he was fit and muscular.

As for the glint in his eyes and the deep voice? Those were masculine, too. Intimidating, perhaps, but in a way that made her feel protected. He looked competent, more than able to take care of himself and anyone else for that matter.

These thoughts brought up images of the man she was expected to marry next year, a Chatioux nobleman of some distinction. He and Pierce Westin were both in their mid-thirties, but there all similarities ended.

She wouldn’t think about Ricard right now. She had the rest of her life to do that.

“Let’s talk about who’s trying to kill you,” Pierce said, glancing over his shoulder again, the flash of his eyes surprisingly warm. “Is this person the reason you came to the ranch? Are you here for refuge?”

“No, I made arrangements to come here months ago and this situation is relatively new.”

“Months ago and Cody never told anyone? That’s pretty amazing.”

A little flutter in her throat kept her from responding immediately. She’d insisted on riding with him to have the privacy in which to reveal the true nature of her visit. Allowing herself to get sidetracked would squander the opportunity.

“Princess? You still back there?”

“I want to explain why I begged you to let us stay—”

“And I’d like to hear it,” he interrupted. “But first tell me about the would-be assassins just in case your general is right and one is hiding behind those rocks over there with a howitzer. Start with what you were doing in Seattle.”

She glanced at the rocks, then shook her head. “We were attending an environmental symposium.”

“And someone tried to do what? Shoot you, shove you in front of a bus?”

“Nothing so direct. Two days ago I received an anonymous note. It warned that if I valued my life, I would convince my father to vote against the natural-gas pipeline proposed for Chatioux. There was no way to respond, but I could have told the writer that while my father will weigh my opinion, in the end will do what is best for our country. He would never put family over duty.”

“He sounds like my father,” Pierce said.

“Are you close to your father?”

“Not exactly,” Pierce said. “I’ve been back here three days and I think we’ve spent all of ten minutes in each other’s company.”

“Why? What happened between you?”

He laughed but the sound held little humor. “Don’t try wiggling out of your story by trying to uncover mine. When does the king vote?”

“In five days. The parliament is divided so my father’s vote will be the deciding factor.”

“And how is he leaning?”

“Construction of the pipeline would bring in much-needed revenue. Our country is in the middle of great flux. There aren’t enough jobs to keep our young people employed and they immigrate elsewhere in alarming numbers. We import too many things and export too few. This weakens us socially as well as economically and that puts our national security at risk. It’s all interconnected and Russia would love to see us crumble.”

She sighed again. “The bottom line is this pipeline would make the difference between a brighter, safer future and a continuing spiral downward resulting in citizen unrest if not out-and-out war on our borders. If environmental concerns can be met, my father has no choice but to embrace it.”

“Can these concerns be met?”

“Yes.”

“And that’s what you’ll tell him?”

“Of course. But Mr. Vaughn doesn’t agree with me.”

“Mr. Vaughn. He’s the diplomat who scurried to the car with the skulking woman?”

“The woman is Bierta, my personal maid. Mr. Vaughn was Chatioux’s official delegate to the symposium. I was unofficial. He wants everything to stay as it has always been. He claims it’s because of the environment, but I don’t know, he’s kind of odd. And since these threats started, he’s worried he’ll be standing too close if someone tries to kill me.”

Pierce muttered, “It doesn’t sound like your father trusts this Vaughn fellow’s opinion or he wouldn’t have asked you to go and act as his ears.”

“My father is a thorough man, a good king. I have ordered everyone to keep this threat a secret from him until after the vote. I do not want him put in the position of having to choose.”

She didn’t add why. Her father’s declining health was not known outside the family.

“The general alluded to something that happened in Seattle. Was this separate from the threatening note?”

“Yes,” she said, the memory of the attack once again vibrant and chilling.

The horse started down a dip in the road and Analise slid forward against Pierce’s back. It was impossible not to have some body contact, but she did her best to keep it minimal. Forced closer than before, she suddenly noticed the way his hair waved against the back of his neck, right above his collar, dark against his skin, fine and tender-looking. He appeared to have a tan.

“Princess?”

She blinked a couple of times as the horse began the climb to the other side of the gully. Her grip tightened around his waist. “On the last day of the symposium, my driver didn’t show up to transport us between hotel and convention center. Mr. Vaughn had rented a car, so he offered to drive but he got terribly lost. We ended up in a bad area of town in a narrow alley where people seemed to be living. Claude, my bodyguard from home, got out of the car when a group of men started pushing at it.” Analise paused. Her pitch had risen as she spoke, the words tumbling one after the other.

“There was a terrible fight. They broke poor Claude’s arm in two places. He had to stay in the hospital so the general hired a new man from an American agency to fill in.”

“The charmer I met at the airstrip?”

“Not so charming.”

“Are you saying that because he’s actually said or done something suspicious or because he glowers all the time?”

“I think it’s the glowering. Plus, I had to ask him twice not to smoke in front of my cousin. Toby is allergic.”

“Anything else happen in Seattle?”

“That’s all, I guess. Claude was hurt but I was never even threatened. I don’t see how any of it could have been planned. We were simply lost. Mr. Vaughn was as terrified by the events as I was.”

“I’m kind of surprised he joined you for this leg of your trip,” Pierce said. “He sounds like the kind of guy who would have preferred staying in a plush room back in the city.”

“I was surprised, too. But he insisted he wanted to see something besides hotel rooms and on behalf of goodwill, I relented.”

“And what about your cousin? Did you really take a little kid to a symposium on the environment?”

“Of course not. He was visiting his Canadian grandparents during spring break. It was prearranged that he would join my entourage for the journey back to Chatioux and the visit to the ranch.”

Pierce was silent for a few moments before he mumbled to himself.

“Did you say something?” she asked, unconsciously pressing against his broad back. She lowered her voice, looked ahead of him down the road where she could barely see the dark shape of the brown horse carrying Toby. “Is something wrong? Did you see something?”

“Just a second,” he said, and yanked the reins to the right. The pinto climbed the rocky bank, cresting a ridge pocketed with drifts of snow left over from the last storm. Below them, the truck slowed and its windows rolled down.

Analise held on tight to Pierce’s coat, unsure what was going on. It crossed her mind that perhaps she’d been wrong, that perhaps this wasn’t Cody Westin’s brother, that he was an imposter, working for whomever had written that disturbing note.

“Go on ahead of us,” Pierce yelled as the truck on the road below rolled to a stop.

“Absolutely not,” the general cried from the front passenger window. The bodyguard glared through the back window.

“The engine noise is bothering the horse,” Pierce said.

“We will not leave,” the general announced.

“Tell them to go ahead,” Pierce said softly over his shoulder. Analise, on the verge of slipping off the horse and running for the truck, raised a hand instead and called, “It’s okay.”

General Kaare looked furious but the driver sped up and the truck soon pulled ahead.

After a few moments, they traveled back down the rise to the road. The vehicle was a good hundred yards away by then, disappearing around a curve. By now the attack of nerves that had gripped her a few moments before was gone and Analise sagged.

“You okay back there?” Pierce asked.

“Yes. Of course. The horse wasn’t really bothered, was he?”

“No. I was.”

“Me, too.”

This time his profile came with a furrowed brow under the brim of his hat. “How do you live like this, Princess?”

“Like what?”

“Like a beautiful fish in a crystal bowl.”

Had he just called her beautiful? She smiled against his back, unexplainably pleased. She was used to having people fawn over her, accustomed to reading flattering things about her appearance in magazines and newspapers, but it was different coming from him. “I guess a person gets used to whatever it is they’ve known,” she finally said. “Anyway, I went to school in England for several years, so I’m not always guarded so closely.”

He put a hand over hers as it rested against his flat stomach. “I don’t mean to alarm you, but I have to admit your story about what happened in Seattle worries me.”

“It worried the general, too, but he wouldn’t discuss it. Will you?”

“It sounds like a setup.”

“Excuse me?” she said, and this time her gaze darted behind them. She hadn’t realized until that moment how the car had provided a safety net at her back and now that it was gone, she felt naked.

“The missing driver, the sudden offer of a ride, the knot of threatening men, the attack on your bodyguard, a new man hired—it sounds like a setup with one express goal—get rid of Claude. How well do you know this man, Vaughn?”

“Not very well.”

He squeezed her hand with his. She’d felt his strength when he helped her mount the horse; she felt it in his body now when he shifted his weight with the ride. Power. But not the overbearing affectations of the general. No, something more subtle and quiet and substantial.

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” he added. “And on you.”

“Oh, please, not another eye. There are already so many!”

“It’s not just you,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean for the time being I’m responsible for everything that happens on this ranch. I want to hand it back to Cody and Adam and my dad in one piece and that means no trouble.”

“Then you don’t normally live here?”

“No.”

“Do you have a ranch somewhere else? Is someone taking care of that while you are here? A wife, perhaps?” The pinto picked up his pace as the road ascended and the distant roof of a building came into sight. Just like the horses at home in Chatioux, this one apparently knew when the stable was close by.

“Why, Princess,” Pierce said, flashing a grin over his shoulder, “is that your way of finding out if I’m single?”

She’d been thinking more along the lines of establishing his identity. For some reason, it seemed unlikely an assassin would claim a family.

Wait. Did she really think this was some kind of setup? If she had, wouldn’t she have insisted the car stay behind them? Trust your instincts, Analise, her father had said on more than one occasion. Sometimes that’s all the armor you’ll have…

“You’re wearing gloves,” she said evenly. “A woman likes to know these things.”

“So does a man,” he said without turning.

“I’m about to become engaged.”

“That’s too bad.”

“And you?”

“I’m not engaged or married or involved with anyone at the moment.”

“But you have been?”

“All those things at one time or another,” he said and there was a tone to his voice that added, Once was enough.

“So if you aren’t a rancher, what are you?”

“I’m part owner of a sort of security outfit,” he said, but there’d been a brief pause before his answer.

“Are you like a policeman?”

“Not really. We help businesses track down inner-corporate ne’er-do-wells.”

“I see.”

“You do?”

“Like industrial espionage,” she said.

“Yes. My partner tends to take the computer angle. I get more hands-on.”

Analise looked ahead and caught sight of a huge log house. Shaped like an inverted V with wings, it appeared to rise to three stories in the middle with tall glass windows. Slender, graceful white-barked trees, their branches currently bare, cradled the upper stories. The long walkway leading to the front was built of rock. A partial roof supported by huge peeled logs covered the end closest to the house. Additional structures could be glimpsed fanning out at the back and there appeared to be a small pond, frozen over, that surrounded the patio on the north end.

When they’d flown overhead, she’d seen long barns with red roofs she supposed held feed and others that must house large equipment. The fields had been dotted with hundreds of black cows, so stark against the winter ground. Add rolling hillsides, millions of evergreen trees and miles of fences and the overall impression was of prosperity.

“You must have enjoyed growing up here,” she said, leaning forward to peer over his shoulder and unconsciously inhaling the clean male scent of his skin. Coming from the privileged life she’d led, admiring a lifestyle wasn’t something she had occasion to do often. But there was a sense of freedom and openness about the place that was foreign to her—and appealing.

For a second she wished she was here alone with Pierce. Just the two of them riding this horse. He was a stranger—he’d never even heard of her before today, he had no expectations, no preconceived ideas of what she was supposed to be.

In fact, if she was honest, she would admit the thought of being alone with a strong, attractive man whose only interest in her was fleeting and trivial was a real turn-on. He wasn’t the kind of man she could ever be with and that was exciting, too.

“The house is bigger now than it used to be. Cody did some serious remodeling before he married Cassie.”

“Is she here now or is she away with him?”

“Neither. The marriage didn’t last, she ran off, á la my mother.”

Analise was willing to bet his casual tone covered some pretty intense undercurrents. “And your other brother, Adam?”

“Off hiking. If you mean is he married, the answer is no. He’s waiting for some nice, shy farm girl to wander into his life.” He turned in the saddle as he reined the horse to a halt and added, “I’d like to talk to you about that photo you mentioned.”

“I’d like to talk to you, too,” she said, nerves flaring again. How much should she tell him? She’d been directed to divulge as little as possible. That had seemed doable when she spoke with Pierce’s brother on the phone months before. With this man?

The key would be saying enough to garner his help without giving anything away…?.

Chapter Four

Pierce looked over his shoulder again. “I’m assuming the photo ties into that ‘important’ reason for your visit,” he added.

“Yes,” she said. “I tried to tell you earlier—”

“As we rode, I know. But I want to look you in the eyes when you talk.”

“Why? Do you think I would lie?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then what—”

“Words aren’t the only way a person speaks,” he said, “and sometimes the way something isn’t said is pretty informative.”

She blinked a few times as she thought about that statement. “It may be hard to get time alone again,” she warned as he stopped the horse next to the walkway.

“I’ll figure it out.” He got off the horse, stepped onto the walkway and reached up to help her dismount. The next thing she knew, she was sliding down his firm body, his strong hands gripping her waist, his breath warm where it touched her bare skin. Her feet hit the rocks a second later and she looked up at him, peered into the depths of his eyes, and felt a shock as something almost tangible passed between them.

And in that moment she knew she could trust him with her concerns. Not everything, of course, and certainly not with her heart.

What an odd thing to think.

“Princess? You are all right?” the general called, and she and Pierce both turned to find the older man marching toward them, moving faster than normal.

General Kaare was old-school. Royals should be admired but never touched by a mere mortal like Pierce Westin.

Ignoring his question, she looked around the open meadow. “Where’s Toby?”

“I am told he is out in the barn with the cowboys. Your maid is inside getting your rooms ready for occupancy. Mr. Vaughn was cold—I believe he’s inside by the fireplace being attended by the staff. Come now, come inside.” The general’s eyes lingered on Pierce’s hands which still encircled her waist.

“What about her bodyguard?” Pierce asked as he kept his hands right where they were. “Where is he?”

“Patrolling the immediate vicinity, getting the lay of the land, or so he called it. Come, Princess.”

Something cold touched Analise’s cheek and she looked up as another flake landed on her forehead.

Holding her hands palms up, she watched the flakes swirling overhead before landing on the blue cashmere. “Is this your storm?”

“No, this isn’t the storm,” Pierce said, his eyes delving into hers. At last he moved his hands—on his terms, she noticed with a touch of amusement. “These are just stray flakes. I’ll be inside after I get Sam to the stable.”

“Let your staff take care of that,” the general demanded as he straightened the lapels on his coat. “We must discuss—”

“My staff?” Pierce repeated with a sudden glint in his eyes. “This isn’t a castle with servants, General. Around here, a man takes care of his own horse. I’ll be with you in a few minutes.” With that, he swung himself back into the saddle and trotted off toward a large structure to the south.

Analise smiled into her jacket collar.

“The man is impudent,” the Colonel snapped. “He is much too familiar with you. Furthermore…”

“General? We are guests in his home.”

“And why exactly is that?” the general asked, leveling hooded eyes at her. “Why are we here, Princess Analise? After the situation in Seattle, why didn’t we skip this frivolous side trip and return to Chatioux as I suggested? I know your father—”

“We are here because I want to be here,” she interrupted, affecting the aristocratic manner she knew would remind him not to push too hard or too far.

He studied her intently for a moment. “Then, Princess, let me say this. Without information and in such a remote spot, I am powerless to protect you.” He held up a hand to still her as she started to comment. “Furthermore, it is clear you’ve placed your trust in this cowboy, this stranger. So be it.” He bowed his head slightly and gestured toward the house with one large hand. Analise preceded him down the walkway.

PIERCE SPENT THE next hour getting Sam settled and delegating work. He put men on duty creating something approaching a campout in the pavilion Jamie mentioned. He sent another up to replace the lock on the violated gate in Shadow Canyon, and turned over babysitting chores to Jamie to whom Toby had taken an instant liking. Even now the child was perched atop the mare as Jamie led her around the indoor arena, Cody’s yellow Lab trotting along while expertly avoiding hooves.

The dog was kind of an odd choice of breed for a ranch. For the first time, Pierce wondered where she’d come from.

The kid spied Pierce and waved vigorously, slipping in the big saddle when he took one of his hands off the horn. Pierce waved back before the boy fell, and turned away, a bitter taste in the back of his mouth as Patrick once again flitted across his mind.

The next thirty minutes were spent in a frustrating string of dropped calls to his partner at Westin-Turner. Bob Turner was an old army buddy and a good friend, but lately he’d been discontent. Pierce thought he knew why—it was Sue, Bob’s girlfriend, and she was exerting pressure on him to settle down.

The ranch hand who had driven the truck to the airstrip and back showed up as Pierce was leaving the barn, the Lab close on his heels. The man had a familiar look to him but he was far too young to have worked here in the days Pierce was around all the time. “You one of Tom Garvey’s boys?” Pierce asked.

“Yeah. I’m Lucas.”

Pierce offered his hand and they shook. Lucas was in his early twenties, sandy-colored hair, blue-eyed and wiry like all the Garvey men, no doubt strong as an ox despite it. He had a pointed chin and nose and about three days’ growth of beard which didn’t really amount to much. “I went to school with your older brother, Doyle.”

“Yeah, I know,” Lucas said. He shoved both hands in his pockets.

“How is Doyle?”

“He’s okay,” Lucas said, but his eyes shut down. Too late Pierce remembered Cody saying something in one of their phone calls about Adam firing Doyle last winter. Something about temper issues, a fight that broke another man’s nose. Though no formal charges were ever filed, Doyle had left and everyone knew why.

Pierce and Doyle had been adversaries in high school. Both of them had been screw-ups, but while Pierce’s antics had been confined to victimless rowdiness, Doyle’s had landed him in juvie. The boy was as mean and sneaky as his father, the elder Garvey.

Well, that was in the past. Pierce quickly changed the subject.

“For the next twenty-four hours, I want you to be a kind of unofficial bodyguard for our guests, especially Princess Analise,” he said. “Just keep an eye on things around the ranch. Report anything unusual to me. And later on, when we have the cookout, stick close by. I’ll find someone else to help you.”

“How about Darrell Cox?”

“The big guy with all the freckles? Sure, he’d be fine.”

“I’ll tell him.”

“Thanks,” Pierce said and took off for the house, the dog running ahead. After he called his assistant back on the land line, his plan was to get some answers from Princess Analise.

And that brought her fully back to mind. He rebuilt her face, then the feel of her seated behind him on the horse, especially when she’d bumped up against his back. That led to reviewing the second she’d spent sliding down his body when she dismounted and the rush of heat that had passed through him, the frisson like a nuclear reactor that had zapped him when their gazes met and held.

He tried to remember the details of the last woman he’d been serious about. Okay, maybe serious about wasn’t the right criteria. Maybe he needed to de-escalate to hot for.

A noise stopped him midway across the pasture that passed for a yard and he looked up in time to see Pauline, the Open Sky housekeeper, entering the house through the kitchen door, a yellow dish towel draped over her arm, the Lab underfoot.

In the next instant, a long forgotten memory hit Pierce with such force it stopped him midstep.

His mother on that porch. Back before the fancy rockwork, back before the big A-frame addition. Standing there with a black fry pan and a metal spoon, banging them together, wearing a yellow checked shirt so vibrant it was like a flag on a drag strip.

And just like that, another memory. His father, walking beside him, looking up at the noise and grinning, laughing at the clatter, slapping Pierce on the back in the process.

The memory was so real that for a moment the house before him seemed to shrink and so did he, flying back through the years into the body of his five-year-old self, the feel of his father’s good-natured thump thundering across his shoulders.

Pierce’s foot hitting the ground jarred the images clear out of his head. They’d been so real it took him a second to figure out what had happened.

And then he plucked the hat off his head and threw it to the ground. What was he doing here? He was supposed to be in Italy, not riding around on horses and babysitting royalty. And now he was having memories of his mother who had abandoned the whole damn family?

Who said, “You can’t go home again”? Thomas Wolfe? Well, the man was a genius, it was true.

He snagged his hat off the ground. The black felt was covered with snowflakes and that startled him; he hadn’t even noticed it coming down that hard. Glancing at the small one-story cabin where his father had exiled himself while his leg healed from a busted kneecap, he shoved the hat back on, grimacing as the cold brim settled on his forehead. If his old man got whiff there was a woman here with possible news of his long lost wife, he’d blow a gasket.

Crap.

Pierce put his head down and continued walking. Time to reassure General Kaare security was under control. Then he’d find out what the princess knew about his mother so he could take the past and put it where it belonged—behind him.

Way behind him.

ANALISE LIKED THE room she’d been given. The green-and-yellow color scheme complemented the honey-gold of the log walls, evoking spring even in the midst of foul weather. It was big, too. Maybe too big. In her present state of mind she would have preferred a windowless, one-door closet, but at least there wasn’t a balcony.

There was only one photo displayed and it was a wedding picture of a man and a woman on horseback, her in a billowing white gown, him sitting tall in the saddle. It was hard to see the particulars of their faces. All Analise could really tell was that the man looked a lot like Pierce, only darker, and the woman had very long blond hair. Oh, and that they were smiling.

Was this Pierce’s sister-in-law’s room? Was this his brother? It had to be. They looked so happy! What could have happened to ruin it for them?

The concept of leaving someone to whom you were obligated and with whom you had exchanged vows was so foreign to Analise that she couldn’t puzzle it out even though she knew half the world did it all the time.

While Bierta, her maid, opened suitcases and shook out clothes—way too many of them in Analise’s opinion; honestly, a ball gown? Two tiaras? Here?—Analise leaned against the log walls and peered through the large window. Though she stood at a distance from the glass she could see the snow had picked up and as she watched, a man walked out of a distant building, a pale dog rushing ahead toward the house.

Even from this distance she could tell it was Pierce and her lips curved. He stopped midway across the yard and stood there a long second, then threw his hat on the ground, swept it from the snow and pulled it back on his head.

She turned away.

“Tea, ma’am?” Bierta asked, standing close by and holding a tray on which sat a steaming cup of herb tea she’d brewed from the hot water she brought along in a thermos.

“Thank you,” Analise said as she perched on the edge of an upholstered chair.

Bierta, who couldn’t have been a day over forty, was a dowdy woman with brown hair and small, dark eyes that swam behind thick lenses. Her uniform was dark blue, her sensible shoes brown, and she moved with deliberate steps.

“Wouldn’t you like some tea, as well?”

“Oh, no, Princess,” Bierta said, looking downright scandalized by the suggestion she join the princess for a beverage. “I’m not the one who requires relaxation, ma’am. You’re the one whose very life is in danger. When I think of what could have happened to you in that alley if poor Claude hadn’t sacrificed himself for you, it makes me—” She stopped herself short and shuddered.

Analise put the cup down on the neighboring table so abruptly tea spilled over the lip onto the saucer.

“I heard the general talking to Mr. Vaughn,” Bierta continued, lowering her voice. “He said you were the target, that someone was trying to steal you away, that if they’d succeeded they would have had to kill you to remain safe themselves because your father wouldn’t rest until—”

“Please, Bierta,” Analise said firmly. “I don’t want to hear any more of this. We’re all a little unnerved after, well, everything. I’d like to be alone for a while.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Bierta said, managing to give the impression that murderers were lurking behind the cheery curtains. “We’re in the middle of nowhere here, if you’ll pardon me saying, Princess. The wilds. There could be a gunman on the prowl—”

“You’re going to have to fill in as Toby’s nanny,” Analise interrupted. “His things undoubtedly need unpacking.”

It took a few minutes, but Bierta finally closed the door behind her. Sighing, Analise got up from the chair and moved to the mirror. She picked up her hairbrush and ran it through the gentle waves, gathering it back in a silver clip. As she replaced the brush on the vanity, she heard a door close in the hall, and then another open in the other direction. Her attention caught, she stood very still and listened as footsteps approached her door. She took a step forward, waiting for whomever was out there to knock, but the footsteps stopped.

For well over a minute, she watched the knob, her heart in her throat, but it didn’t turn. Was someone still out there? If so, why didn’t they knock?

Swallowing hard, Analise grabbed the doorknob and pulled.

The hall was empty. A sound from the stairs had her spinning that direction in time to find Pierce stepping onto the landing.

“There you are,” he said.

“Did you pass anyone on the stairs?” she asked anxiously.

“No.” He narrowed his eyes. “Where’s your bodyguard, Princess? Shouldn’t he be standing out here, protecting you?”

Where was her bodyguard?

Pierce grabbed her arms suddenly and she blinked up at him.

“It looked like you were about to keel over,” he said, his grip pressing into her sleeves and the tender flesh beneath.

She stared into his eyes for a few seconds, then shook her head. “I don’t know where Harley is. Outside, I guess.”

“When did you have something to eat?”

“Breakfast.”

“Come on,” he said, his right hand sliding down her arm to grip her hand. The motion made her quiver as she allowed herself to be pulled from the room.

Chapter Five

Pierce led Analise into the dining room where he expected to find the rest of her party eating a late lunch. The room was empty. He pushed on a swinging door and they entered the warm kitchen.

Pauline, standing at the counter, was in the process of hanging a ceramic cup on the wrought-iron mug tree Adam had made back in high school. Each big cup was bright red. Some were chipped, all were stained by coffee brewed strong enough to usher a man into the frozen predawn morning, and yet they’d been hanging in the same places for twenty years. Amazing.

The retriever sat by Pauline’s legs, begging. Both Pauline and Bonnie turned at their entrance.

“Oh my, you must be the princess,” Pauline gushed. “I’ve seen your photograph in the magazines, but you’re twice as pretty in person.” She managed a little self-conscious curtsey, her graying hair swinging around her face as she dipped her head. She was a good-looking sixty-something-year-old woman who had been at the ranch for at least twenty years.

The dog trotted over and sniffed Analise’s hands. The princess knelt and ran her slender fingers over the animal’s smooth head.

“She’s a lovely dog,” she said, looking up at Pauline. “Is she yours?”

“Oh, no, she’s Cody’s dog. Well, actually, she belonged to his wife, Cassie, but Cassie left without taking her—” Pauline put two fingers against her lips and cast Pierce a glance. “Sorry, I got to rambling…”

“It’s okay,” he told her. He looked at the princess and added, “Marriages have a way of turning out bad in this family.” He introduced the housekeeper as the heart and soul of the Open Sky Ranch.

“I’m so pleased to have you here, Your Highness,” Pauline said as Analise stood. “Your maid said you weren’t to be disturbed so I didn’t bring you lunch and Pierce, I was coming to see what you wanted.”

“I’ll take care of both of us, Pauline,” Pierce said.

Pauline shook her head as she turned to the stove and took the lid off a huge pot. A wave of fragrant steam brought the heady aroma of meat and vegetables. “I can’t get over how different you are,” she said over her shoulder as she replaced the lid. “I mean from the boy who stormed away fifteen years ago. That boy didn’t spend any time in the kitchen unless it was to eat.”

“That boy didn’t need to. He had you spoiling him rotten,” Pierce said with a fond smile.

“Well, your brothers still can’t cook. Might have done them both good to get out on their own for a while.”

“They’ll both die here with their boots on, you know that. Meanwhile, have you seen a big guy dressed in black? Sunglasses, bald, intimidating?”

“I caught a glimpse of him outside when I took your father his lunch but I haven’t seen him since. I’m sure he’s around somewhere. I could use some of his muscle to tote things outside for the cookout.”

“I imagine much of the work for the cookout will go to you, Pauline,” Princess Analise said. “I want to thank you in advance and apologize for any trouble.”

“Mercy me,” Pauline said, waving away the princess’s concern. “We’re used to coming up with meals in a hurry.” She nodded at the pot on the stove. “I’ve already started a stew. The boys will take it out later and grill steaks and maybe hot dogs for your little cousin. We’ve got a big pot of beans going out there already and I’ll whip up some slaw, heat loaves of bread and fry potatoes. Berry cobbler fresh from the freezer for dessert. The boys are all looking forward to it.”

She took her coat off a hook by the door and shrugged it on. Looking at Pierce, she added, “If I can’t help you, I’m going to go get your father’s dirty dishes. Come on, Bonnie, let’s go see Birch.”

As soon as they’d left, Pierce put both hands on Analise’s shoulders and gently pushed her down atop a stool pulled up to a huge cutting block island.

Without the distraction of a padded coat, the full force of her body kept hitting him like a two-by-four. Round breasts filled the oyster-white silk blouse styled like a Western shirt but tailored perfectly. Her jeans looked as though they’d been made just for her, maybe even sewn onto her slender hips by a half dozen hand maidens wielding needles and thread. A simple diamond flower twinkled in the sensuous hollow of her throat.

And she smelled good. Not exactly perfume, not flowery but not heavily musky, either. He had the overwhelming urge to bury his nose against her skin and inhale deeply, filling his lungs with her essence. To be truthful—he had urges that went a lot deeper than those. Good thing there was a no-trespassing sign hanging around her pretty neck or he’d have a hard time concentrating.

He turned away and opened the refrigerator. “I’m making you lunch,” he announced as he gathered supplies. Unwrapping the bread Pauline had baked earlier in the day, he added, “I’d sure like to hear about that photo you mentioned.”

Analise fidgeted on the stool for a minute as he sliced leftover roast beef, grown on the ranch, the product of his brother Adam’s ranching techniques. Stemming his own impatience as Analise obviously sought a way to broach whatever it was she had to say, he kept quiet. She finally murmured, “Did you know your mother went to college with mine?”

“No,” he said, glancing up at her as he sliced cheese. “I didn’t know that.”

“They were roommates as required by the school for all entering freshmen. I think because my mother was a prime minister’s daughter and yours was a governor’s daughter, school officials thought they would get along well.”

Pierce cut the huge sandwich and placed half on his plate and half on hers. He poured two glasses of milk and handed her share over, then sat down on a stool across from her. “I know my mother went to a private university in New York, but that’s about all. My grandfather died before I was born, and Mom, well, she left when I was a little kid. I haven’t seen or heard from her since then.”

The princes ignored the food as she leaned across the bar, hands clasped. “Our mothers became great friends,” she began. “Confidantes, actually. They roomed together for several years until my mother left to go back to Chatioux to marry my father and your mother left to marry your father and come live in Wyoming.”

Pierce swallowed a bite and nodded. “Okay.”

“The photo I’ve seen many times over the years is a framed one sitting on my mother’s bureau of her and your mother at school. They are both nineteen years old and look so happy and excited.”

Pierce nodded again. What memories he had of his mother suggested this was an accurate description of her. He could vaguely recall lively eyes and a ready laugh. Yet as he drank the milk, he asked himself if this tenuous connection was a disappointment. Had he somewhere in the back of his head expected Analise to say she’d seen his mother relatively recently? Had he hoped for an explanation of some kind?

Of course he had.

He put the glass down and watched Analise try to take a dainty bite of a man-size hunk of beef. “So how does this tie into you being here?”

She met his gaze. “Our mothers stayed in touch at first. That’s how I knew about you and your brothers. Anyway, now Mother is interested in knowing how her old friend’s family is doing.”

“After thirty years?”

“Your mother’s disappearance was a shock to her, too,” Analise said as she set her uneaten sandwich back on the plate. “For years she expected Melissa to write or phone or come for a visit, but she never did.”

“Yeah, well, Mom took off with another man, you know.”

“Did your father ever try to find her?”

“Are you kidding? Everyone tried to find her. The police thought he’d hurt her. It was a zoo around here until she sent a postcard. She said she’d had enough, that this wasn’t the life for her. Eventually I guess she made new friends and had new kids and forgot all about the old ones.”

“Do you believe that?”

“Yes.”

“Do your brothers?”

“Let’s get one thing straight, Princess. We don’t talk about my mother around here. We never have. And none of this explains why you told me you needed to be at the ranch. How much of this did you tell Cody?”

“I told him our mothers were school chums and that mine had asked me to stop here and return to Melissa’s children something she’d been holding on to for years. It’s a locket and it’s upstairs in my room.”

“And he bought that?”

“I wouldn’t have come if he hadn’t,” she said as a flash of irritation ignited her eyes like lightning.

“Yeah, okay, point taken. But it’s not really why you’re here?”

“Not entirely, no.”

He gestured at her plate, wishing he’d made her something fancier, a little daintier. She didn’t really look like a big meat-and-potatoes kind of girl. “Maybe there’s some soup left over from last night—”

She picked the sandwich up again and took a healthy bite. After chewing and swallowing, she looked him in the eye. “I’m sorry I’m beating around the bush. Isn’t that the right expression?”

“Yeah, that covers it.”

“The truth is my mother left something with your mother all those years ago that your mother promised to destroy. She didn’t, though. Instead she wrote my mother and explained she’d decided to hide it somewhere very safe. I’m here to retrieve and destroy it.”

Pierce stared at her a second before laughing. “My mother hasn’t set foot on this ranch in thirty years. What in the world does your mother think you’re going to be able to find after all that time?”

“I’m not at liberty to say what it is.”

He opened his arms wide. “What’s your plan? Search every nook and cranny? Be my guest, knock yourself out.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Your mother said she had hidden this object with ‘resting souls, high in the summer sky.’ Does that mean something to you?”

“No,” he said quickly. Okay, maybe it did bring something to mind but this was nuts. A glance out the window revealed snow coming down at a slant, meaning the storm was arriving early. Briefly, he wondered if the men had gotten the heifers back closer to the ranch.

Well, hopefully the storm would run its course by morning so these folks could depart on time. Any which way, if the one feeble clue Analise had provided pointed where Pierce thought it pointed, it was beyond reach for the time being which was fine by him.

He turned as he heard a noise at the door leading to the dining room, expecting to see someone push their way into the kitchen. Analise’s gaze followed his. When no one appeared, he got off his stool and approached the door, but a sudden cry from Analise caused him to turn before he’d made it that far.

She pointed at the television with one hand and covered her mouth with the other, her beautiful eyes wide with alarm. He looked at the TV.

What appeared to be a stock photo of Analise on a ski slope filled the small flat screen. It was immediately replaced by a new photo, one of a man with a flaming red handlebar mustache. Pierce quickly adjusted the volume.

“—the driver for the daughter of King Thomas of Chatioux during her Seattle stay. Falstead’s body was found stuffed into the trunk of his limousine which was pulled out of Puget Sound early this morning as commuters looked on. Police are not disclosing the cause of death at this time but sources say it appears Falstead’s been dead since he was reported missing three days ago. Police plan to question Princess Analise in the days to come.”

The news moved on to the next story and Pierce turned to look at Analise. She was still standing, fingertips braced on the cutting block as though they supported her entire weight.

“Your driver?”

“I didn’t know his name,” she said, eyelashes fluttering against pale cheeks, voice raised to be heard over the volume of the television. “I thought he didn’t come that morning because he was lazy.”

“Did you call the agency he worked for?”

“Personally? No, of course not. Someone must have, though.”

Pierce took a step around the island. “Princess—”

“Who would do such a thing? Why?”

He shook his head. “You’d better call the Seattle Police Department.”

“My mobile phone doesn’t work here.”

“There’s one on the wall over there but the unit in the office would be more private.”

“I don’t know anything about Mr. Falstead,” she added, but there was a resigned quality to her voice.

“Still,” he said gently.

“It’s my duty to check in with them. That’s what you’re saying. And you’re right, of course. I should do it soon before they contact my father. Anyway, maybe his murder has nothing to do with…me.”

He gently caught her wrist as she turned away and she looked back at him, her gaze darting to his hand. Releasing her, he added, “I think you’d be better off facing the facts.”

“What facts?”

“Someone threatened you, someone killed your driver and someone injured your bodyguard. The people with the best access to you in Seattle are here right now in this house. They traveled with you.”

“No,” she said, but her eyes revealed she’d already grasped the truth of this statement.

At that instant, the television went dead, plunging them into tomblike silence.

They house had just lost electricity.

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